


Nothing Changes

by Paian



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: 100-1000 Words, 500-999 words, Angst, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-21
Updated: 2007-04-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:29:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paian/pseuds/Paian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blake lets himself be cornered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Dubious consent.

"I won't be another of your sexual toys," Blake said curtly.

Avon's teeth bared in a smile, though Blake, turned from him, couldn't see it. "Of course not," he purred, increasing the pressure of his thumb circling the base of Blake's spine. He felt the slight jerk of Blake's hips, resisting the urge to thrust with the movement. "That's the last thing you'd want. You prefer to be in control."

"You can't possibly know what I prefer. You have no entree into my mind."

_Unlike Cally's_. Was it jealousy, or relief Blake felt? It was interesting not to know.

"I have every confidence that your megalomania extends as deeply into this bedroom as it does into the rest of the ship." He stepped in closer, slid his hand around to cover Blake's erection through supple leather. "And that you have fantasized about a moment just like this, just as often as I have." Blake's eyes dark pools of lust in the dark air, the bite of musk, the bear-like body arching underneath him, mouth opening in a soundless cry ...

"Aren't things -- complicated enough?" The exasperation in Blake's voice was tinged with defeat and choked by arousal.

"Oh, quite hopelessly complicated," Avon agreed, pressing gently, massaging.

"Now you're mocking me. So nothing changes, despite the fact that you're ... " Blake's voice broke. Avon smoothed his palm flat down the length of the erection, then traced its contours back up with his fingertips, and ended at the trousers' fastenings, undoing them deftly. The flesh that came into his hand was gratifyingly rigid, meaty and cool against his hot palm. He circled the glans with the pad of his thumb, slowly. Blake braced against the bulkhead, his head down. "Don't," he said. There was no force to it.

Avon grasped the shaft as he pulled Blake's trousers down and then undid his own. "Have you ever done this before?"

Blake lifted his head, and shook it.

"Trust me, then," Avon said, the smile insinuating itself into his voice again, insinuating itself across his face, because the irony of his asking Blake for trust was too delicious. "I know what I am doing."

"I didn't -- " Blake broke off on a groan as Avon gave his cock a firm squeeze just under the head. Of course he hadn't asked Avon for this. Neither of them had expected this to happen, if it ever did, as a back-alley screw up against the wall. But the cabin was dark, and Blake had put himself in this position, turning from Avon, turning to the wall but reluctant to leave it, perhaps too aware that desk console and bed were the only places to go in the tight cabin except out.

"Let me do this, Blake," Avon said, voice very low in the darkness, prompting with his hand, stroking and then pausing in the full awareness that he had brought Blake to a point where release was the only option. "No pretenses, no shields. I know you've thought about it."

"If I did, it wasn't like this." Blake's teeth were gritted, but he hadn't straightened, had made no move to get away.

Avon stroked the hard shaft again, down and then up, a movement demanding resolution that he would not yet provide. With the other hand he smeared lubricant gently into the fold of flesh, then probed at the opening until it relaxed to admit a greased finger, then two. After long moments of panting and the sound of slick flesh-on-flesh in the cabin's silence, he replaced the fingers with his cock, also smeared with lubricant; the masturbatory gesture of applying it had made him short of breath, one hand filled with Blake, the other with himself.

He'd forgotten what it was like, with another man. The hard, hot chill of it, the shared masturbation. The hole closed around the tip of his penis like a sucking mouth. He steadied Blake with the free hand on his hip now, and tightened the hand holding Blake's cock, let it thrust into his fist, rode the motion without breaking contact. Then he was in, his glans engulfed by the hot opening, too hot, too tight, too much stimulation -- he had to pause, brace himself against ejaculation.

Blake was groaning. Avon took a deep breath and thrust into him, gently, not too far, but full penetration at last, and the groan tore raggedly. He could feel Blake's cock draw into itself, collect itself for orgasm. He rocked inside him, once, twice, then thrust all the way in, a long lightning shaft of liquid fire that arrowed through Blake's body and erupted into ejaculate. To Avon, it felt as though he convulsed into Blake and his own semen poured out into his hand, with Blake's cock the conduit.

Immediately he withdrew, pulled himself together, drew Blake's trousers up, fastened them again. Blake straightened slowly; when he turned at last, Avon was cleaning his hands in the lavatory, watching Blake in the mirror Blake had installed in the alien alcove, a puzzling bit of vanity.

"You see?" Avon said, turning, amused. "As if nothing happened. You can play it that way, if you like."

Blake's expression was guarded and somewhat dazed, but his voice was hard. "Get out, Avon."

Avon complied with a gracious bow and a cold, satisfied smile.

As he left the dark quarters, he heard Blake whisper, "You should never have come."


End file.
